Aftermath
by RolandaWrites
Summary: Everyone has their own way of dealing with the incidents that occurred out at sea. Some better than others


Takes place after the Campania Arc. Spoiler Warning.

I own absolutely nothing. You Go, Yana.

Drabble Summary:

Everyone has their own way of dealing with the incidents that occurred out at sea. Some better than others.

* * *

Grell sat up, rubbing her eyes. She vaguely recognized her surroundings, being the interior of an office that wasn't hers. Beneath her, she felt the plush of a duvet, a softer, thinner blanket atop her.

A man with short black hair in striped pajamas walked in. He looked to the redhead with a stoic expression. "I see you're up, Sutcliffe". Grell rubbed the back of head, which hurt like she had been hurled into a wall. "William? Why am I in your office?" The other reaper turned to the window, which showed the dark night sky aglow with stars. "You were in no condition to walk back to your own office, and seeing as you were in no state to object, your being unconscious and all, I led you to my office, due to its closeness". A sudden though caused Grell's heart to twist uncomfortably in her chest. "How's Ronald?!" She gripped on the blanket as if it were her lifeline. Will pushed up his glasses. "Injured, but not all too badly. I think of anyone, the demon was most injured".

The female reaper nodded, remembering how the retired reaper stabbed the creature through. Sure, it would heal in the form the one they all knew as Sebastian took now, but scars from a death scythe never escaped a creature's permanent form. Humans were blind to the scars, just as they were blind to the reapers.

Most humans, at least.

Grell groaned, pulling the blanket tighter around her and turning to face Will, who sat on a stool beside the couch she lay on. "I can't believe we let him get away". William, quite unexpectedly, tucked a strand of long hair behing Grell's ear. "If the Dispatch let you and Ronald die on the ship, we would lose one of our best reapers and have no one to help us catch the Undertaker later".

Grell didn't realize the hidden compliment in the answer until a little while later. She felt her face heat up unwillingly. "Thank you, Will". She really meant it. She felt like the carpet had just been pulled out from under her and she was falling, but then here was Will, talking to her and giving her a blanket. She was honestly surprised that he hadn't kicked her out by now. She buried her face in the blanket, ashamed at how ugly she must look by now. Smeared makeup, knotted hair, caked blood on her face, and voice hoarse. Couldn't get any worse.

Will didn't smile, but his eyes were kind and inviting. "You're welcome, Sutcliffe". Grell closed her eyes, enjoying the silence. As much as she knew that Will needed her to leave so he could go to bed, she was afraid of being alone, afraid of the sinking feeling of worthlessness in herself, and terror that Ronald was not alright, that all their fight against the former reaper was in vain, and, most dreaded, that she would be alone. She never wanted to be alone, but always seemed to be.

Will stood up and the dread fell back into place. "That couch doubles as a bed. Get up and I'll fix it for you". Shakely, Grell stood to her feet. When William was done fixing the bed, she collapsed on it, her head meeting a very comfortable pillow. The blanket was pulled up to her shoulders by another pair of hands, whose owner made for the door. Before she could stop herself, Grell grabbed the back of his shirt. "Please... don't leave me alone like this".

Sighing, Will sat on the bed. "What happened to the actress that we all know you as, Sutcliffe? Did it fall off the boat with you and forget to come back?" Will's tone was soft and careful. Grell buried her face in the pillow. "An injured actress cannot properly perform". She felt the matress dip with a slight weight as Will laid down beside her. "Even an actress has to recover. Even Ronald Knox. Even the best of us".

Grell laid her head on Will's shoulder and, for the first time in a long time, was comforted as she cried.

* * *

Ciel wasn't quite sure how effective the Phantomhive household would be for the next week or so. Sebastian's injury had taken a toll on everyone, even the servants who had not been with them. Finny seemed sadder and Meyrin was less cheerful.

Ciel approached Bard as the elder rewrapped the head butler's wound. "How is he?" The bluenette asked. Bard glanced down at Sebastian's gauze wrap, as though worrying about how long it would hold. "Honestly, I'm kinda worried about 'im. He's got one big gaping hole, that's for sure. It's a miracle he ain't dead". Closing the medical kit, Bard stood up to place it atop the tabletop. His eyes had a pained look in them and some other unreadable emotion in their turquoise depths.

Ciel wondered just how long Bardroy had stayed up with or watching the raven haired butler since the day they got back. He did at least know that the chef had a strong sense of loyalty to his fellow servants and the manor. Bard brushed Sebastian's bangs back from the latter's forehead and took Sebastian's ungloved right hand. Bard ran his thumb over it and laughed bitterly. "Too bad he ain't awake. The painted nails would be nice small talk".

The chef lit a cigarette and the Earl Phantomhive watched the smoke climb higher into the air, as if it lead to a place with less fear.

* * *

Elizabeth Midford held her mother's hand tightly. The woman beside her recounted the events from the Campania for the younger girl, reconfirming the surreal experience that Lizzie wished was just some sick, twisted dream.

Frances put her other hand atop Elizabeth's. "My daughter," Frances's voice shook, as if it would crack at any minute. "I'm so sorry. I'm glad you're alright". Elizabeth hugged her mother back, coming to a startling realization. Her mother was scared. Scared that she had almost lost her little girl. Lizzie stroked her mother's hair which, as a very, very rare occurrence, tumbled down her back and shoulders into waves that rivaled those that the cursed cruise ship had ventured into on its failed journey.

"How is everyone else? How is Ciel? How is Father? Edward?" Frances pulled away and caressed her daughter's cascading curls. "Your father and Edward are fine. From what I know, Ciel is alright, but Sebastian has been severely injured. He isn't dead, though". Numbly, Lizzie nodded, feeling tears streak down her face. So much changed. She was no longer Ciel's 'cute' fiancé- she was the daughter of the leader of the British Knights. No longer was Sebastian perfect without flaw- he could be hurt, and possibly killed. Then Ciel would have no one. No one but her, her family, and his other servants.

Across the room lay a sword, delicately placed on a pillow for all to see. No longer was it bound to hide in its holder, never to be used. The sword and Lizzy now shared a common trait. No longer would they be held back.

They were free.

* * *

Thank you to any and all who read! I hope you enjoyed my writings! Please review, follow, and vote if you like! Feel free to request!


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